


evermore

by gigglesandfreckles



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Family Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Taylor Swift, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:55:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28053519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigglesandfreckles/pseuds/gigglesandfreckles
Summary: "dreamscapes and tragedies and epic tales of love lost and found" within the lives of our favourite space fam.or: TAYLOR SWIFT LITERALLY OWNS MY SOUL, OKAY?
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 10
Kudos: 93





	1. willow

**Author's Note:**

> We all knew this was coming. In the words of Miss Swift, "to put it plainly, I just couldn't stop writing [fic]." Each of these chapters will be an unrelated one-shot in album order based around different character dynamics we all know and love. To be updated sporadically and when I'm really on my Taylor Swift ish (so, realistically speaking, all 15 chapters could be uploaded by the end of the day ha).
> 
> *IMPORTANT: please keep in mind these songs are almost all being taken out of context haha. As most of Taylor's brilliance is based around romance and most of my mediocrity is...not, I'll include the specific bits of lyrics that connect to the characters. Basically, I'm not intending any of these as ship unless I explicitly state that (which I will a few times!), regardless of what the original intention of the lyrics may have been.

_Wait for the signal, and I'll meet you after dark_

_Show me the places where the others gave you scars_

_Now this is an open-shut case_

_I guess I should'a known from the look on your face_

_Every bait-and-switch was a work of art_

_The more that you say, the less I know_

_Wherever you stray, I’ll follow_

_I'm begging for you to take my hand_

_Wreck my plans, that’s my [Master]_

(ha)

\---

“You stay here.”

“But I want to–”

“You can’t. I’m going alone.”

“I can help you! Come on, Skyguy, let me–”

“ _No_ , Ahsoka,” Anakin stopped walking, re-shouldering his bag and turning fully toward her with a frustrated frown. “This isn’t up for debate.”

Her face fell. She’d been sure she could change his mind, this time.

“Yes, Master,” she murmured.

His features softened a little bit. “Next time, Snips.”

“You said that last time,” she muttered in response, but he was already jogging onto the Twilight, leaving her standing alone on the platform. 

Again.

“Be good!” he called as the door of the freighter shut.

“I always am,” she sighed to herself.

Ahsoka had found herself on the platform watching her Master fly away more and more frequently. Sometimes he took Rex, but normally, it was just him and Artoo, on random missions to who-knew-where. 

Sometimes, she wondered if there was a mission at all. 

“He’ll be back soon, Little ‘Soka.”

She looked at the gentle hand on her shoulder. “Hi, Master Plo.”

“Your Master’s solo mission isn’t all bad, right?” he asked, warming her with his low rumble. “We get to spend some time together.”

Ahsoka pulled a smile. “Of course.”

“But you’re upset.”

“I–” she took a deep breath, “I don’t like being left behind.”

She hated admitting it. It made her feel weak, dependent, and _attached_ , but if anyone could understand, it would be Master Plo. They’d talked about her feelings on Anakin’s recent solo missions before. It was never just about him leaving her out of something.

She worried about him.

Lately, Anakin had been pensive, reserved, _tense_. She’d tried to talk to him about it, but he promptly shut her down every time. That’s how it was, living life at Anakin’s side. He was all passion and emotion until he simply–wasn’t.

Ahsoka still hadn’t gotten used to the whiplash.

Plo’s grip on her shoulder grew a little stronger. “I know.”

It didn’t make her feel any better.

“I just want him to tell me what’s going on. He’s–distracted.”

“Unbalanced?”

“ _No_ ,” Ahsoka said quickly, defending her Master. “Well, yes...maybe? I don’t know.”

And that was the truth. His shields were so securely in place these days, she couldn’t tell _what_ was going on. It wasn’t normal–her Master who was so quick, _too quick_ , to act on his feelings and impulses–suddenly so closed off and distant.

Ahsoka could help him; she _knew_ she could. If he would just _let_ her.

“Your Master wants you to be safe.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“No doubt, Little ‘Soka.” He rumbled. “Which is why he must make hard decisions.”

“If he would just explain what he’s doing–”

“Anakin must reckon some things in his own life on his own.”

“Does the Council know?”

Plo hesitated at that and Ahsoka sensed a slight shift in the energy between them. “The Council is aware of your Master’s need to stay occupied when he is undergoing stress,” he said slowly, obviously choosing his words with extreme caution.

“But they don’t approve.”

It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Master Skywalker is his own person. Some choices must be left up to him and him alone.”

She sighed. “That’s not supposed to exclude _me._ ”

She wasn’t entirely sure when things had shifted between them. Master Kenobi’s escapades as Rako Hardeen had heavily contributed, but she’d sensed the hurricane in him before that. As whispers about darkness within the Senate and within the Jedi grew, the conflict in her own Master had strengthened. He bore the weight of this war heavier than any other Jedi she knew.

Ahsoka yearned to bear some of it for him. She could _handle it_ , no matter what he thought. If he would open up and allow her to take on some of the burdens he carried, he’d be better. More lighthearted, more optimistic, more _Anakin_.

She’d tried her normal tactics. Pushing the boundaries with Master Kenobi as she knew Anakin so loved to do, hoping he would join in with her teasing. Pranking the men aboard the Resolute. Pushing at Anakin’s buttons to pick a light fight. Showing off on the battlefield in all the ways Anakin would roll his eyes and reprimand her for.

Every time, she was met with nothing. 

“He says he’s just tired, but I sense something else is going on.”

 _He’s gotten too comfortable with lying to me_ , she wanted to say.

“This war has taken a toll on all of us, Padawan.”

“Yeah. It has,” she said, not willing to keep arguing a point Master Plo would never be able to completely understand. 

Sometimes she felt like Anakin was the only Jedi who _could_ completely understand her. 

“Do you still have time for breakfast?”

“I always have time for you, Master Plo.”

She sensed the smile below his mask and wished hers was as genuine.


	2. champagne problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Young Obi-Wan and Satine face the reality of saying goodbye. One is less willing to do so than the other.
> 
> (part one of two for obitine bc I simply cannot help that champagne problems and gold rush are back to back on the album. this chapter IS intended as ship!! even though I literally. can. not. find a groove in writing any sort of romance. but, hey...growth point!)

_One for the money, two for the show_

_I never was ready so I watch you go_

_Sometimes you just don’t know the answer_

_‘Til someone’s on their knees and asks you_

_“She would’ve made such a lovely bride_

_What a shame she’s fucked in the head,” they said_

_But you’ll find the real thing instead_

_She’ll patch up your tapestry that I shred_

\---

“You came,” she smiled giddily as she pulled him by his wrists to the centre of the room.

Her laugh was so contagious, so _overwhelming_ , he didn’t even peer over his shoulder once as the door slammed shut behind him. Her guards would have to come in here and remove him by _force_ if they so chose. Obi-Wan was a humble man ( _most of the time_ ), but he seriously doubted their force could hold a candle to _the_ Force, so he liked his odds.

The young Jedi scoffed. “I’m offended you ever doubted me.”

“You’re mistaking my impatience for doubt, Obi-Wan,” the young Duchess insisted with an impish grin, moving her hands to encircle his.

“Oh,” the Jedi nodded with a smile of his own. He watched their joined hands swing between them. “Yes, I seem to misinterpret _many_ things you say.”

“Perhaps it’s better to keep the important things _unsaid_ , then.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting a more somatic method of communication, Duchess?”

“You’re cute when you use big words just to try and impress me.”

“ _I_ _don’t–_ ”

His defense was cut short by her lips on his. Somatic communication it was, then.

It surprised him, like it did every time. But wide eyes and a stunned expression always turned into molded smiles and breathless chuckles as they shared air and space. 

After a month of middle-of-the-night conversations and whispered admissions, he should be used to it. Kissing Satine Kryze had become something he was quite partial to, after all. She would almost certainly make fun of him if he admitted to analysing their intimate moments–but it was something he just couldn’t quite wrap his head around. Every kiss was so _different_.

Not that they’d had many and not that Obi-Wan could imagine a world in which he’d ever be able to say they had _enough_ , but the past month had brought many changes. He wondered where they’d be if he’d never said anything.

Certainly not kissing in her bedroom the night before he headed back to Coruscant. Or, at least the night before he was _supposed_ to head back to Coruscant. He–had some things to figure out first.

“I’m glad you came,” she whispered to the space between them as she rested her forehead against his.

“Qui-Gon’s going to kill me.”

She smirked, eyes scrunching at the corners in the way that made Obi-Wan feel eternal. “You can take him.”

He laughed fully at that, trying to imagine a duel in which he successfully overpowered his towering Master.

“That’s not even close to the truth,” he said with a shake of his head. “But, thankfully...he’s a heavy sleeper.”

“You’re telling me.” Satine rolled her eyes. “You forget the close quarters I’ve shared with you and your Master through all of this. The _snoring_ –Obi-Wan, I haven’t slept properly in a year.”

“I haven’t slept properly in _seven_ ,” he reminded her.

She sobered a bit. “If he wakes, will you...will you be in trouble, actually?”

“Probably,” Obi-Wan shrugged, hoping she didn’t notice how his lips twitched to reveal the true worry he had at his Master’s potential reaction to Obi-Wan’s absence. She noticed. “But I don’t think he’ll be surprised to find out I’m here.”

Her eyes widened. “Does he–”

“Satine.” He crossed his arms and gave her a pointed look.

“Yes,” she conceded with a huff. “I suppose he’s smarter than I give him credit for.”

It was true. Because it hadn’t just been the two of them this past year, as much as Obi-Wan and Satine would have welcomed that. It had been the _three_ of them. Though Qui-Gon had, at times, felt like a cumbersome chaperone–he had in fact been the leader of their mission and the reason both of them were still alive.

“Even so,” she continued, “I don’t like disappointing him. He cares about you so, Obi-Wan. And–”

“If it’s all the same to you,” he breathed, snaking an arm back around her waist to use as leverage, “I’d rather we not talk about Qui-Gon right now.”

Satine’s eyes flickered to his lips briefly. “But, Obi-Wan, his _hair_ ,” she sighed with a grin, “it’s just _so–_ ”

It was Obi-Wan’s turn to silence Satine in the next step of this dance they had gotten so good at over the past month. 

It was a euphoric sort of dance. One that left Obi-Wan’s mind fogged and thoughts unguarded. Dangerous. But worth it, he told himself every time.

So worth it.

“You’ll stay?” she asked breathlessly.

“ _Obviously._ ”

Her eyes fluttered closed in relief. “Forever?” she sighed, returning her lips to his.

The hand at her waist stiffened.

“What?” The Duchess pulled away, searching the Jedi’s face with concern. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” He waved her off with a tight smile, lowering his head back to hers. 

She stopped him with a gentle hand on his chest. “Obi-Wan.”

“It’s nothing. Really.”

Her worried gaze hardened into a glare.

“You…” His shoulders fell. “You said forever.”

Satine frowned. “What?”

“Just now,” he sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You just...when you kissed me. You asked if I would stay forever.”

“I meant tonight.”

“You said _forever_ , Satine.”

“Well, I didn’t–”

“I _know_ you didn’t mean it. _Why would you?_ ” Obi-Wan snapped. Immediately regretted it.

He dropped onto the couch in a heap. The fog subsided, clearing the way for reason and practicality and–

“I’m sorry.”

She sat next to him, primly. Her hands found one of his again and she held it on her knee. 

He’d miss the coolness of the silk on her dresses.

“I don’t know why you’re so quick to dismiss the possibility that I could want you to stay forever,” Satine said quietly. “Is it so difficult to believe my caring for you is genuine?”

“I know you _care_ for me, Satine.” He rubbed a thumb along the silk. “That’s not–”

“Am I incapable of possessing strong feelings because I’m a _politician?_ ”

He threw her a brief look of exasperation. “You know I see you as more than that.”

“Then, how can you say that?” she demanded, squeezing his hand. “How can you possibly insinuate there is _anything_ in this world I want more than for you to stay forever. When you know how much I–”

“ _Please_ don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”

Obi-Wan shut his eyes against the intensity of her unspoken admission. He wouldn’t–no, he _couldn’t_ –sit here and allow her to speak empty words that would only bounce around his consciousness for the rest of his life.

She threw him a look of indignation. “Of course I mean it. Why would I–”

“Then don’t say it unless you intend to _act_ on it.”

“Act?” She frowned. “What does _that_ mean?”

“You know what it means.”

She faltered. “Are you asking–”

“No. Of course not.” He said quickly.

“Oh.” She withdrew her hand and regarded him coldly. “Of _course_ not.”

“ _Satine_ …”

“No.” The young duchess stood from the couch. “ _No_.”

He wasn’t sure why he was here, not really. 

Maybe it was to say goodbye. That’s what he would tell Qui-Gon, were he to bust down the door as Obi-Wan half-hoped he would, at this point. It’s what he would tell himself, should he leave this room and never see her again. Goodbye. It shouldn’t be complex. He was a Jedi and he’d been tasked with protecting her. 

But she was safe now. She didn’t need him.

 _Need._ A funny, cruel word that maybe–

Well, maybe he wasn’t there to say goodbye.

“Don’t be cold with me, Satine. Not tonight.”

She stared out the window, her fingers pulling at the seams of her dress, like they always did when she was the most frustrated. Normally with Obi-Wan.

“I’m not here to pick a fight.”

“Then, why are you here?”

A question. _The_ question.

“To see you.”

“See me?” She turned back toward him, wrapping her arms around herself as though she suddenly felt uncomfortable with his presence. He hated that. “You see me all the time.”

“Satine.”

“What?” she asked, sharply. “You do. Every day for more than a year, in fact. I don’t know why this suddenly–”

“Satine.”

“–not as if we won’t see each other in the future when you–”

“Satine, my dear.” He’d crossed the length of the room. “You’re safe now. Qui-Gon and I…” A deep breath. “After tomorrow, things will be different.”

Her hands stayed wrapped around herself. Guarded. And–Obi-Wan knew– _scared._

“I don’t want things to be different.”

He smiled a little at that. “It must be _somewhat_ of a relief to know your life is no longer being threatened.”

She met his eyes then, offering a look of contempt. “I don’t care about that.”

“I know. I wish you did.”

“ _You_ don’t.”

“I’m a Jedi.”

And there it was.

Three words that had pulled them together and now pulled them apart.

“A Jedi,” she echoed, quietly, stepping into him.

His hands found her arms easily. 

“I don’t want you to leave, Ben,” she mumbled into his robes.

“I don’t want to go.”

 _So stay_ , he wanted her to say. _Stay forever_.

The silk of her dress was cold, but she was warm, _so warm_ , with her hands clutching at his shoulders and her heart beating so strongly he could feel it through their layers of clothing and almost mistake it for his own.

He waited for the words. A plea to not go. An excuse to _stay_.

But he was a Jedi and, sometimes, he thought Satine was more conscientious of what that entailed than _he_ was.

The words never came. Morning did.


	3. gold rush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan and Satine revisit an old memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not necessarily related to the previous chapter, but part 2/2 for obitine. this lines up with when we first meet Satine in tcw season 2. 
> 
> because *no one* finds more joy in calling each other out on their contrarian sh!t than Obi-Wan Kenobi and Satine Kryze.

_At dinner parties_

_I call you out on your contrarian shit_

_And the coastal town_

_We wandered 'round had never_

_Seen a love as pure as it_

_And then it fades into the gray of my day old tea_

_'Cause you know it could never be_

\---

“I think you’ll find there are a great many things you do not know, Master Jedi.”

“Least of all, how a leader can remain stoic and uncaring while a galaxy around her is at war.”

Obi-Wan felt the room watch with baited breath. He’d gone too far–again. It was one thing to have these conversations when it was just the two of them, but inappropriate to hold them with an audience. Sometimes, though, he simply couldn’t help himself.

Her eyes flashed from across the table. “I would be careful with throwing _uncaring_ around in conversation, Master Kenobi. You are, after all, a representative of the Republic. _Some_ people may discredit you for hypocrisy.”

He pulled an easy smile. “There are worse things to be accused of, Duchess.”

The entire table had gone silent. Briefly, Obi-Wan wondered if Satine had personal dealings in the seating arrangement for the evening. It was almost as if someone had specifically placed them on opposite ends of the long table, anticipating a fight.

“The Great Negotiator, ladies and gentlemen,” she said sharply, holding up her glass. “Charming as ever.”

Obi-Wan lifted his own champagne, maintaining eye contact from across the table. When she moved the glass to her lips, he followed suit, not missing the smirk she hid behind her drink.

The rest of the room raised their own glasses, looking entirely uncomfortable.

Obi-Wan downed his drink, swiftly, and immediately wondered if that had been wise. This was a diplomatic mission, after all, and the burning in his throat certainly wouldn’t _aid_ him tonight. 

Of course, the burning in his throat hardly compared to the tightening of his chest when Satine set her glass down and lifted her eyebrows significantly toward him.

He frowned in response, unsure of what she was trying to communicate. Her eyes flickered around the table briefly before landing back on him. The slightest of nods toward the door.

What was she–

The sound of her chair scraping against the floor brought the table conversation to a stop.

She seemed to remember her audience and Obi-Wan watched her reassume her role on an inhale. “If you’ll excuse me,” the Duchess smiled amiably, “I must attend to something. Please continue to enjoy yourselves. I’ll be back shortly.”

Obi-Wan’s mouth fell open. Just like that? She was just going to _leave?_ That _hardly_ seemed fair, considering he was stuck here for the next two hours, at least. Regardless of the corners she’d backed him into over the course of this dinner, he still–

“Master Kenobi?”

He shook his head, looking up from the plate he had zoned out on.

“I’m walking to my office.”

He blinked at her expectant figure hovering in the dining room doorway.

“Across the city.”

Obi-Wan felt the eyes of the room upon him. “O– _kay?_ That’s...lovely.”

Her lips pursed together. “Isn’t that something I _need an escort for?_ ”

His eyes widened and he shot up from his chair. “Yes, absolutely, of course. That is _most definitely_ something you need an escort for, milady.” 

He shot his hand out to catch his own chair from completely falling over. Smiled sheepishly. 

“I will ensure the Duchess’ prompt and safe return to you all,” he nodded toward the dinner guests as he walked backwards toward the door Satine had just disappeared through.

As soon as he was through the entryway, another hand slammed the door behind him. “You know, for a Jedi, you can be really thick,” Satine said, grabbing for his own hand. “And I hope you don’t plan to deliver on that promise. I have no plans of a _prompt_ return.”

“I didn’t–”

“Walk with me, Obi-Wan,” she said, tugging their joined hands behind her.

His eyes widened as he looked down at their locked hands. “Satine,” he began.

“We’ll take the long way. No one will see us,” she insisted.

He seriously doubted that.

“And if they do see us, you can use your Jedi mind tricks on them.”

“That’s not how that works.”

“ _Walk with me_ , Obi-Wan.”

He sighed, but nodded slightly, allowing her to lead him down the hall and out of the building.

It was colder than he expected and Obi-Wan suddenly realised he hadn’t been outside all day. Meeting after frustrated meeting had kept him pinned to a holo-projector and conference room. The dinner party was the first true socialisation he’d had all day, but it hadn’t been welcome. He’d much prefer a lonely conference room than the table of stuffy Senators he’d just left.

Truly, though, he was only concerned with the company of _one_ person.

He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about dinner. I–”

“Please. That was the most excitement I’ve had all week.” She waved him off. “So long as you know you’re wrong.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” he said with a smile.

She tugged on his hand. “I want to show you something.”

They continued their walk. Satine held to her promise of going the long way and they didn’t run into many civilians at all. The few Mandalorians they did run into looked to their joined hands and offered a slight smile, not taking the time to notice the identities of the couple beneath their hooded cloaks.

A couple. People walking by them must have thought they were a _couple_.

Obi-Wan hated the warmth that spread in his chest from that realisation.

“Here.”

Satine had stopped them in a courtyard. It was empty, framed by looming buildings on each side. Their usual glisten was dull in the moonlight, giving off a low reflection instead of their blinding daytime glow. The courtyard looked like the sort of place children may run through after school or adults may stop for a rest during their lunch-breaks.

A peaceful square in the midst of a war-torn galaxy.

And in the centre of it–

“Satine.” He whispered. “Is that–?”

“The very one.”

Obi-Wan dropped her hand, walking closer to the massive tree. He inspected it, rounding it several times and finally placing his hand on it’s dark trunk. It had only been a sapling when he had last seen it, almost twenty years ago now.

“I can’t believe it,” he said, staring at the tree in amazement.

“I don’t think we realised what a symbol it would become when we planted it,” Satine said from behind him. “This courtyard has played host to many ceremonies now. Our tree is an integral part of Mandalorian society.”

“Our tree,” he echoed quietly. “We were just _kids._ ”

After their year on the run, in one of the final days of being on Sundari together, they’d planted a small sapling. It wasn’t supposed to be significant, merely an excuse to spend a bit more time together. Qui-Gon had a difficult time finding a reason his Padawan couldn’t plant a _tree_ with the young Duchess, so they’d fully exploited that. 

They hadn’t even noticed their placement of it in the then-developing city centre until Qui-Gon had pointed it out.

“My office is up there.” She came to stand next to him again, pointing at the top-most window of one of the buildings. “I can see it from my window.”

“I can’t believe it’s still here.” Obi-Wan had a difficult time taking his eyes off the tree, trying to understand how so much could have changed in all these years, but this tree– _their tree_ –remained.

“I enjoy the daily reminder,” she said, looping her arm through his.

“Of being young and stupid?” he scoffed lightly.

“Among other things.” She leaned into him

Obi-Wan took a shaky breath. Too far–again. This time, though, it was her.

“Satine–”

“Don’t,” she whispered, shaking her head against his shoulder. “A few more minutes.”

“They’re going to wonder where you are.”

“I don’t care.”

“You’re the hostess.”

“Obi-Wan,” she said sharply, pulling back to look at him. “It is my understanding that we have an incredibly difficult few days ahead of us. And from what I gather, I do not know that we will find ourselves on the same side at the end of all this–”

“That’s not–”

“ _So_ , I would like to stand here with the boy who planted this tree with me for a few more quiet minutes. Give me that."

He shut his eyes. “I’m not that boy anymore, Satine.” 

It hurt to say aloud.

“Yes, you are.” She stood on her toes next to him, kissing his cheek. “Remember.”

So he did. The bickering, the laughter, _more_ bickering that led to _more_ laughter. It had been a pattern, then. Something they had accidentally fallen into over a year of fear, danger, and close-calls. After all of it, they’d sat on their knees and planted this pathetic sapling, giggling and dreaming together one more time.

It was cruel that they’d found their way back to this same place, but were being left with the same state of hopelessness. Like it had when they were kids, time would run out and reality would catch up and they’d be thrown back into their individual places in the galaxy.

“I seem to recall a young Duchess _insisting_ this tree would grow pears, but–oh. Hmm. Would you look at that?” He pointed to one of the lower hanging fruits. “An apple.”

“ _Obi-Wan_ ,” she groaned through a giggle.

“Looks like that boy was right, afterall.” He nudged her with his shoulder, grinning widely.

She rested her chin on his shoulder, peering up at him. Her exasperated smile faded into a tiny curve as she watched him. “I’ve missed you,” she said, her whisper tickling his beard. 

He dropped his forehead to hers. “I’ve missed you, too, my dear.”


	4. tis the damn season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padmé and Anakin sneak away to Naboo for the weekend, but things end quicker than expected. A long-coming conversation ensues.

_So we could call it even_

_You could call me babe for the weekend_

_'Tis the damn season, write this down_

_I'm stayin' at my parents' house_

_And the road not taken looks real good now_

_And it always leads to you in my hometown_

\---

“I still don’t know how you were able to swing this.”

“Because I’m charming, Padmé,” Anakin replied. One of her curls bounced as he let it unspring from around his finger. He couldn’t help but grin a little childishly as he watched the movement.

She rolled her eyes. “Yet you’re always rambling about how the Council manages not to see it.”

“Well, for once, they...did.”

“Or, alternatively…you lied.”

“Yeah, obviously.”

“Ani,” she sighed, lightly pushing away him on the couch so she could get a better look at him.. “It’s like you _want_ the argument.”

“Or, _alternatively,_ ” he said, pulling her head back toward his chest and resuming his ministrations in her hair, “it’s like I haven’t spent a night with my wife in two months and finally had a leave that lasted more than a few hours.”

He felt her frown against him. “I hate that you’re spending your entire time off _here_.”

“You’re here. There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

She smiled fully at that, relaxing into him. Anakin wasn’t sure how she could think there was anywhere in the galaxy he’d rather be.

He hadn’t been back to Naboo since their wedding two years ago. _Two years_. It was hard to believe it had already been that long. The summation of their time actually spent together over the two years was more comparable to a month of marriage, if they were being honest with themselves.

Which they so rarely were.

“I’m surprised the Queen is even letting me use the house.” Padmé said.

“Why wouldn’t she? She has at least _ten others_.”

Padmé lifted her head to try and get a glimpse at his face, but he pulled her back down. She’d obviously heard the resentment in his tone; he didn’t need her to see it etched on his face, too.

“Ani, when I was queen, I had–”

“I don’t want to fight about galactic income gaps. I shouldn’t have said anything,” he interrupted quickly. “For once, let’s just...forget the politics. The war. All of it.”

“I wish it were that easy.”

“It is. Just–a weekend. We can do that.”

She sighed, obviously not convinced. But willing to try.

“Let’s go for a walk,” she suggested, standing and pulling him up with her.

He gathered the robe he’d thrown over the side of the couch–Obi-Wan and Ahsoka weren’t here to pester him about _folding it_ –and followed Padmé toward the door. A walk would be good. Fresh air. 

His comm beeped.

Padmé lifted her eyebrows expectantly. “Who is it?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Anakin waved it off. He stepped into his robe and pulled it around him.

Another beep. His eyes flickered to the ID. He froze.

“Actually...it’s Ahsoka,” he said quietly. He looked up at Padmé pleadingly. “I should probably get this. Just in case…”

In case she was in trouble or hurt or sick or–

“Go.” Padmé said sincerely.

He hurried into the bedroom and closed the door, hitting his comm. A sigh of relief when the projection was filled with his Padawan looking completely normal.

“Master?”

“Are you okay?”

“What?” She scrunched her nose. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine.”

He breathed a breath he didn’t know he was holding. It was one of the first times he’d left her completely on her own. He knew she was competent, obviously, but it was still...stressful.

“Good,” he sighed in relief.

“Are _you_ okay?” she asked. “You look tense, Master.”

“I’m fine, Snips. Do you need something? Make it quick.”

“ _Well_ –”

“Ahsoka.” he warned.

“It’s the Council. They...they’ve been trying to reach you.”

Anakin frowned, sitting on the edge of the bed. Hoping Ahsoka couldn’t see the backdrop of his holo-call. “What do you mean? I haven’t gotten any messages.”

“Well, yeah. You left your main comm with me.”

He groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Kriff, you’re right.”

“You said you didn’t want them to be able to contact you or locate you so–”

“Yeah, I remember,” he snapped. “Okay, so...what’s the deal?”

“How fast can you get back here? Where _are_ you?”

“That’s not important.”

“Master...if you want me to convincingly cover for you–”

“I never asked you to–”

“Then why did you leave your main comm here and only give me your personal comm channel?”

She had him there and they both knew it. When he’d left for Naboo, it had certainly been implied that she should cover for him, should anyone ask any questions on his whereabouts. He’d been _so sure_ nothing would come up that she couldn’t handle.

“You can’t take care of it?”

Ahsoka looked a little miffed at that and Anakin immediately felt bad. “ _No_ , Master, I can’t _take care of_ it. They want a report on Hoth. I wasn’t even _there_ for Hoth!”

“Okay, okay, yeah, stupid idea. Sorry.”

“I could ask Master Obi-Wan–”

“ _No._ ”

The facial markings above her eyes lifted in surprise.

“Just…” Anakin huffed. “Don’t bother him with it.”

“So what do you want me to do?”

He paused, shutting his eyes and trying to come up with something. He wasn’t leaving Naboo. That wasn’t an option. He’d waited for time with Padme for _so long_. The Council could wait for the Hoth report. He’d already given them his overview, so it must just be a follow-up. Certainly, that couldn’t be urgent.

“Master?” Ahsoka asked suddenly.

“Yeah?”

“How are you feeling?”

He frowned in confusion. “What?”

“After your bout of stomach flu, how are you _feeling?_ ” She leaned closer to the holo-projector, her face filling the projection.

He grinned. “Ahsoka.”

“I just figured since you’ve been stuck in your bed _all day long_ and since you’re _so concerned with_ not infecting anyone else...I should check on you.”

“You’re the best Padawan ever, do you know that?”

“I do,” she nodded happily. “But the flattery is good for my ego.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow. I promise. Just–hold them off another day.”

“You got it, Master, but…”

“What is it?”

“If Master Obi-Wan asks–”

“Don’t.”

“I can’t lie to him,” she whined. “And he’s supposed to help me with my paper on–”

“You’re hanging out without me?” he asked. _Rude_.

She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t think _you’d_ be interested in a night at the Archives.”

“Good point,” he said in disgust. “Anyway–you don’t have to lie. Just...don’t bring it up.”

“I’ve got your back, Master.”

“I know. Thanks, Snips.”

“All right, well I’m gonna go. _Tell Senator Ami_ –”

He clicked his comm off and took a deep breath. 

The Council could be dealt with later. They probably wouldn’t believe Ahsoka’s cover-up attempt. Obi-Wan _absolutely_ wouldn’t. But they didn’t have any way to place him on Naboo or with Padmé. And the guilt he felt at lying to them was overwhelmed by the thrill he felt at being here with _her_.

If the roles were reversed, she’d do the same thing.

“Is everything okay?” Padmé looked up from where she was fiddling with her holo-pad as he re-entered the living room.

“Yeah, she’s fine.” He dropped to the couch, stretching his legs in front of him. A shrug. “Just needed homework help.”

“And she called _you?_ ” Padmé teased.

“Why does everyone think I’m incapable of academics? I _did_ learn how to read and write in the period of a month, you know. Some might even call me a genius.”

“ _Some_ would be dramatic.” She smiled affectionately, but fell short. Anakin sensed her uncertainty.

“We still going for a walk?”

She took a deep breath. “I...got a message, too. While you were talking to Ahsoka.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She chewed on her lip and he knew. He _knew_. “They want me to come back.”

A beat. “What did you tell them?”

“Ani.”

He threw his hands up in frustration. “For _what?_ ”

“There’s a committee meeting tonight for–”

“You were in a committee meeting _last night_. Can’t they get things done without you?”

She looked at him reproachfully. “They hardly get things done _with_ me, Anakin.”

“You’re telling me.”

“ _Don’t_ ,” she said sharply, standing from the couch. Her finger jabbed toward him in accusation. “Just because change doesn’t happen immediately–”

“Change doesn’t happen at _all!_ Padmé, how many times are you going to propose the same legislation before–”

“Until it _works_ , Ani. Until I get enough support to enact _change_.”

“The system doesn’t work, Padmé. You know it doesn’t. It stopped working a long time ago.”

“It stopped working when the Jedi became the ultimate authority on _war_.”

He scrambled up from the couch, following her across the room. “Don’t throw that at me like it’s a choice! We didn’t ask for this!”

“Oh, _please_ , Anakin.” She laughed bitterly. “You _love_ it.”

He reeled back. “I _love it?_ I love watching planets get destroyed and watching my friends die? I _love_ carrying home the bodies of men who served under me, or better yet, being forced to _leave them behind?_ ”

“Okay, that’s not–”

“ _No,_ Padmé. Don’t tell me I _love_ war unless you’re ready to kriffing well defend it.”

Her eyes moved to the floor. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He could hear his own breaths filling the space between them, ragged and heavy. 

“I don’t–Padmé.” He shut his eyes, trying to clear his head of the _banging_ and _pounding_. He’d conquered this when he was a Padawan, after Obi-Wan’s insistence that an unstable mindspace was volatile. _Dangerous._ But, lately–he’d found it was harder to push through. “How can you _say_ that? Do you...do you actually believe that?” he asked, quietly.

He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so small.

“Of course not,” she said quickly, looking up at him with pleading eyes. But then those eyes shut and her frown deepened against her own will. “I don’t...I don’t _know_.”

“Oh,” he said. The banging and pounding stopped. “Oh.”

“Ani–”

“No.” He held a hand up, walking back across the room. “It’s fine.”

“It’s _not_ fine…”

He fell back onto the couch, his head in his hands. “I just need to think for a second.”

The couch sunk next to him and a hand found its way to his back. He didn’t find the comfort in it that he’d always found in the past. Now, it felt heavy, cumbersome, invasive.

He shifted away.

“Anakin.”

“How long?” he asked hoarsely.

“What?”

“How long have you...felt like this?”

She sighed shakily. “I don’t know. It’s not like I _blame_ you for the war. Or the Jedi. I...I don’t. But it’s–I _don’t know_. It doesn’t seem like you’re anxious to end it.”

“Padmé. That’s what I do _every day_. I fight these battles to win the war.”

“Winning and ending are not the same thing, Ani.”

“So you want us to lose?” he asked incredulously. “Just let the Separatists have it for the sake of _ending_. You think things would just go back to the way they were with Dooku at the helm of half the galaxy?”

“ _No_ , that’s not what I want. Obviously. But the Jedi–”

“Don’t lecture me on the _Jedi_ , Padmé. I don’t–I can’t _handle that_ right now.”

Her eyebrows dropped. “What are you–”

“When are you leaving?” he asked, turning away from her.

She paused. “A transport is picking me up at 1300.”

“An _hour?_ ”

Her eyes flashed. “You’d do the same thing, Ani. If the Jedi called and asked for their Hero With No Fear, you’d be there in a _second_. Don’t act like you’d _choose me._ ”

A million retorts bubbled within him. Frustration, exhaustion, and _anger_ competed for top spot as he remembered the conversation he had _just_ had with Ahsoka. The conversation where he had _just_ chosen Padmé.

And lied to himself about her doing the same.

Not for the first time, Anakin felt the weight of the Republic and the greater good threaten one of his relationships. So instead of arguing and defending and accusing–

“ _Yeah_ , Padmé. I guess you're right.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading/kudosing/subscribing/commenting! your words absolutely light up my day.
> 
> scream about star wars with me on my [ tumblr ](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/giggles-and-freckles)!


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